Retail Therapy and Southern Perverts
by Scouse
Summary: [Complete] The minute that Jack had revealed to her that there was a collection of unclaimed belongings stashed in the depths of the hatch she had nearly jumped for joy Sana, Jana, Skate, Jate
1. Chapter 1

Title: Retail Therapy and Southern Perverts   
Rating: PG13

Pairing: The trapezoid, but you know I have a soft spot for Sana. Be prepared for a lot of that in the second part.

Summary: The minute that Jack had revealed to her that there was a collection of unclaimed belongings stashed in the depths of the hatch she had nearly jumped for joy

Warnings: Innuendo, but that's in the second half.

Status of fic: WIP But I've only got the epilogue thing to add.

Disclaimer: Don't own any of it.

**Retail Therapy and Southern Perverts.**

The minute that Jack had revealed to her that there was a collection of unclaimed belongings stashed in the depths of the hatch she had nearly jumped for joy. The mention of a shower with hot running water made her want to take it a step further and kiss him and with his amused hints that there was soap and shampoo she was ready, right there and then, to tell him that she'd quite willingly bear his children! But the excitement had won out over the inclination to tell him such in the end and had sent her hurrying towards the hatch under his careful directions.

A month of scrambling through the jungle and living on the beach with only the clothes on her back to her name, had left her more than a little…pungent. To say the least. But desperate times had called for desperate measures and personal hygiene quandaries had gone swiftly out of the window. Besides, if everyone else stank as much as she did, it didn't really matter…Or at least it hadn't until her small group had breached the larger survivor society, coming face to face with people dressed properly and clean and still smelling of the shampoo that they had left over or had had the fortune of finding.

She felt like a savage. Like an animal, unruly and unkempt. A heathen being introduced to the 'New World' unable to ignore the looks, half dubious, half appalled by their apparent inability to keep themselves clean despite the fuselage survivors not fully knowing, nor wanting to really, what the small group had endured.

It was little surprise then that her first port of call, after having settled in and learned from Jack of the island's curious utilities, was the hatch itself for a well needed and deserved wash and finally a change of clothes (Oh, how many times over the past month had she damned herself for her decision not to don a bra the day that she had boarded flight 815!)

The wheel to open the door was stiff and the rust came off on her palms, staining them a grubby brown-red, when she finally managed to turn it and heave the thick metal door open, but she was unconcerned at that point. The dirt would soon be gone, washed away like her troubles. Scrubbed away with an iron fist if she had to.

The walls of the hatch where made up of earthen brown and more rusting metal and bland grey concrete. It was dark inside the primary corridor despite the fixtures that glowed warm yellow and threw out as much light as they dared into the musty air. It resembled the bunker that she and the tail end survivors had discovered back on the other side of the island, except it was in far better condition. Not damp and dank and while this hatch wasn't exactly inviting, neither was it as disagreeably so as the other bunker.

The shower was easy to locate and she slipped inside, undressing in record time to stand beneath the low pressure spray that cascaded down from the showerhead in fits and starts. The water was hot and sputtering one moment and then cold and forceful the next. The soap that was left in there made her skin itch and the shampoo a curious medicate variety that made her eyes sting from the mere smell, but at least she felt clean again. It felt good to wash away the grime and worry of the past month and even though the constant change between the heat and iciness of the water made her head ache, even though she rubbed her eyes raw to stop the stinging, she took her time to indulge in a thorough cleansing, not just a mere splash of water to her face and hands to remove muddy streaks and dirt from the bits of her body that people saw. She even managed to scrape the grimy lines from beneath her short nails that she hadn't dared to bite for weeks now for fear of what germs she was putting in her mouth.

Feeling much refreshed and ready to face the world once more, though she was clad in only a towel, Ana ventured to the laundry section where Jack had revealed there was a stash of unclaimed items of clothing that had been moved to the hatch instead of the caves where they had primarily been. And there she found them in part folded piles where women like Claire and Sun and Rose had made the futile attempt to keep the area neat, and part a jumbled heap of multicolour where others, most probably the island's male occupants, had rifled through snatching out a garment that they desired and not putting a thing back. Typical.

Clutching her towel securely to her she balled her own clothes as tightly as she could, minimising the amount of filthy material that she had to touch with her clean hands and wrinkling her nose at the smell that she hadn't realised was so overpowering until she had removed them and had the luxury of soap. She tossed them viciously, trying to shove them as far away from her as she could, into the deep drum of one of the washing machines, ancient though they were (she vaguely remembering her mother having one of the same model when she had been a kid), that were lining the wall. And then, straightening to her full height once more and ignoring the chill in the air she began picking through the clothes piles, tentatively at first, somewhat ill at ease with the idea of wearing the attire of someone who had not survived the crash. But a resurgence of the draught racing down through the rooms of the hatch and crashing against her, making her shiver, served to put her thoughts back into perspective. She began thinking with her practical head once more and delved deeper into the mound of garments with more purpose.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realise anyone was in here." the voice reached her ears after only a few moments of unsuccessfully finding anything suitable and Ana glanced up and over her shoulder to the woman who was already turning away to make a swift exit, her arms filled with a bundle of soiled clothing. Men's clothing. Familiar men's clothing.

"It's alright. No need to leave on my account." she called after her and the petite woman stopped, considering her again as she turned partially back towards her.

"You're sure?" she pressed. "I mean, I can come back later…when you're…dressed."

Ana waved a hand in dismissal at her and pulled on the first thing that caught her eyes. A bright yellow t-shirt that was at least a size or two too big and instead fixed the far too small towel around her waist sarong-style.

"I'll be out in like two minutes." she replied, glancing up as the other woman neared and dropped the bundle of washing onto the concrete floor. "I just need to find some things. What're you doing? Laundry?"

The brunette smiled faintly, nodding as she stooped to open the washing machine door which contained Ana's sparse belongings, peering inside as she spoke. Her voice tinny and echoing.

"Yeah. I need to get them done at some point. Better sooner than later. You don't mind if I stuff these in with yours, do you? They're all dark material. Nothing should run." she queried, looking up through hair that fell in the way of her green eyes, eyebrows raised as she waited for a response and Ana shrugged, tossing aside a few more shirts that she thought might fit her.

"Waste not, want not." she shrugged again and the other woman smiled her small smile again taking up her menial task.

The sound of heavy, denim material rubbing against the metallic innards of the drum and the soft dull slap of material landing into a pile as Ana sorted her way through methodically were the only sounds around them for long moments, until the woman closed the door and stood, pressing her hands to her lower back as if it ached.

"You make a habit of wearing men's gear?" Ana broke the silence first, eyes remaining trained on her task at hand even though she could sense the jade glance that turned to her in surprise. Perhaps at the effort to make conversation and perhaps because of the bluntness of the question.

"What?" she asked, politely. Smile curious, if a little tense. "No. They're for someone else." deft fingers flickered over the buttons and dials of the old washer. Clicks and beeps filling the air until Ana resumed the conversation once more.

"The Cowboy?"

The young woman's eyes were most definitely wary now at the mention of the southern man and Ana couldn't decide whether such a look was initiated by her own seeming interest in him or the other woman's feelings towards the man in question. Finally, however, she cleared her throat, shooting a glance down and sideways before focusing her attention once more onto her job, filling the drawer with soap powder.

"Sawyer, yes."

Ah, so this was the infamous Kate. The woman that had both Sawyer and Jack clamouring for her attention, doing everything short of beating each other with big sticks to fend the other off and become the conquering hero and redeem her affection blah, blah, blah…

"You're Kate, right?" Ana narrowed her eyes in query, flashing them sideways at her to some extent reluctant companion.

"Yeah, how'd you know? Did Sawyer say something…about…me? When you were on the other side of the island?" she was almost nervous, her movements flighty and jerking, fingers knotting themselves together atop the washing machine that she leant her weight forwards onto.

"Nothing actually." Ana replied with a toss of ebony hair, still wet from her shower, over her shoulder. "Never mentioned you…Any of you." she corrected, seeing the emotion, suddenly no longer anxious but hurt, shine brightly from Kate's eyes. The woman really couldn't hide anything at all, even from a stranger and it was clear that while she was hiding something, something that she didn't want other's (especially Ana) to know, Sawyer not talking about her when she wasn't there had pricked a little of her pride. "Never had the time to really. No, Jack told me about you."

"Right…" spoken with relief? A breath of air let out in almost-liberation until Ana's new statement had fully hit home and a new form of hurt took over. A hurt that Ana decided to ignore, holding her hand towards her in invitation instead. Dark eyes watching to see what this woman, this Kate, who Jack had spoken so highly of, would do when faced with Shannon's killer and Sawyer's tormentor and Jack's current confidant.

"I'm Ana-Lucia." she spoke the words, her name, as she had a hundred times since the plane had crashed. To a hundred different people who would likely not remember her name, nor she theirs. She remembered first saying those words to Sawyer under false pretences. His respect. Her betrayal. His fury. Her sarcasm. His opposition. Her fury. His flirtation. Flirtation of her own…

"It's…ah, nice to meet you…Do you prefer Ana-Lucia? Or can I call you Ana?"

"I don't know…Can you?" she smirked at her own joke, speaking again before Kate had a chance to open her mouth and reply. "Ana's fine. Better than some of the things I've been called in the past. In the recent past."

"Let me guess." Kate's tone was monotone. Monotonous as she spun to lean back against the machine and folded her arms across her chest, turning her head ever so slightly to study Ana as she worked. Perhaps trying to read her as Ana had been reading her since she had opened her mouth and entered the room. "Sawyer?"

Ana allowed herself a chuckled, deep throated and, for the first in a long time, true amusement quavered in it's nadir, as she nodded in confirmation.

"How is Hicksville anyway?" she asked, lightly, selecting a pair of jeans that, like most of the clothing there, was a couple of sizes too large for her. But she figured she'd tighten up her belt a notch and deal. At least she'd be clean and there was nothing she could do really if all of the smaller sizes of clothing had been claimed already by the likes of Kate and the other women. "Still cracking the jokes out?"

While Kate may have been awful as sin as pretending disinterest in a subject, Ana had it down to an art. What sounded to the brunette like an emotionless, routine query of someone who didn't want another death on her conscience, was actually well guarded concern. Ana had made choices to keep the greater majority alive, but that hadn't meant that she had liked making those decisions. She had guarded her true feelings impeccably back then as well but she'd be lying to herself right now if she didn't admit that Sawyer's survival had lifted a dark and heavy weight from her shoulders.

"Better," Kate responded, checking the time on the dial of the washer once more. "At least he's up and about now." Slim fingers brushed curling hair, come loose from where she had tied it at the base of her neck, falling into her eyes. Eyes that looked Ana up and down, considering. Calculatingly.

"It's strange. I would have thought that the salt in the sea water would have helped prevent infection in his shoulder…" she murmured, now that she was finished programming the washer turning to help Ana's search for suitable clothing. "He must've gotten dirt in it when you were trekking through the jungle."

Ana felt cold and hot all in the same instance. She felt as if her stomach had just somersaulted and she glanced at her companion suspiciously, covertly from the corner of her eye, searching her features for any traces or hints of reproach or anger that would betray Kate and tell Ana that her involvement in Sawyer's injury had been discovered.

"Yeah. Strange." she responded with an almost grunt, resisting the urge to cough nervously. She was still dubious, still waiting for the next words to fly out of Kate's mouth to be threatening. But, alas, Kate carried on quite happily sorting through the clothes, oblivious to Ana's inner turmoil and the underlying meaning of her own words. Of how close to the truth she actually was. Sawyer hadn't told her. He hadn't told anyone of Ana's outburst of violence towards him, an injured man. But whether his silence was a product of his male pride or his mute forgiveness of her actions, she wasn't sure. Quite possibly, and most likely, it was the former, though she decided, nevertheless, that next time she had him on his own, she'd find out.

The silence between them was growing uncomfortable all of a sudden as it stretched out for long moments, broken only when either of them made an attempt at polite conversation, considering the colours and styles of the clothes that would suit Ana or not, as the case was with the yellow shirt that she currently sported. And once she had her quota of shirts and tank tops, they turned instead to hunting for more important garments.

Kate was the one who broached the quiet next, voice once more curious. She stopped digging through the material pile suddenly, taking a deeper breath than the ones she had been and alerting Ana to the fact that something wasn't quite right. That there was a doozy of an interrogation heading her way, one that Ana had known was coming somewhere along the line.

"So, Ana…" Kate studied the stitching intently, perhaps not feeling able to meet Ana's dark eyes while she made her enquiry. "I heard that you're quite friendly with Jack." her small, enigmatic smile was back, masking her thoughts for the first time in the entire exchange between them both. She allowed her words to tail off, almost insinuating as they hung in the air, caught between them. As if the mere _notion_ of Ana enjoying an acquaintance with Jack was blasphemous.

"You heard?" Ana countered, eyebrow raised dubiously as she stopped her movements also, turning so that she and Kate were almost face to face, almost squaring off…but not quite, returning the somewhat analysing stare.

Kate's face stiffened briefly, as if she were caught off guard by Ana's riposte but she recovered swiftly, regained her composure and Ana had to give her credit where it was due.

"Okay, I'm not blind. I've seen you with him."

Honesty. Finally the truth of the matter came out. Kate was bothered by the camaraderie between her and Jack, but Ana owed her nothing yet. She didn't owe her an explanation even though the look in those green eyes told Ana that she wasn't about to let the subject drop without at least a brief one.

She shrugged, brushing ebony hair away from her face once more and fisting the hand, that wasn't propping her up against the washing machine, onto her hip.

"I knew him before the flight…" she allowed her comment, though it wasn't strictly the truth neither was it a lie entirely, to bask in the sudden silence once more rekindled between them with no further clarification. If Kate wanted to read into those words something more than Ana had intended them to mean, that was Kate's problem.

And indeed it was.

"Oh…" she attempted to feign nonchalance but it didn't fool Ana for a second.

Kate was bothered. Possibly she had been bothered long before the mention of Ana's prior acquaintance with Jack had been made common knowledge. And it wouldn't have been a surprise if it turned out that Sawyer had put the damn idea that there was something more than met the eye between her and the doctor into the brunette's head to begin with. It was such a 'Sawyer' thing to do. Had his name written all over it.

"So, what about you, Kate?" Ana cleared her throat suddenly, startling the other woman out of the reticence that she had adopted. Emerald eyes, once more unable to hide the dismay there, glanced up to meet her own gaze. "The Redneck told me he wasn't married."

"He isn't." tight lips allowed forth tight words. Strained. Terse. And yet, amazingly, still polite. How the hell she managed that one, Ana wasn't sure.

"Could've fooled me. You're running around like his wife." she couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice at that, nor the disapproval, but like she didn't owe Kate an explanation of her business, neither did Kate owe her one.

But she answered non the less. Almost as enigmatically as Ana had herself.

"Sawyer and me…We…It's complicated."

"Washing his dirty laundry kind of complicated? Yeah, I can see that." she watched Kate glancing into the circular window at the blur of colour and soapy water. Heard her mumble something about wanting to help Sawyer out, what with his injured arm and all. "So what does Jack think of all of this?" that regained her attention

"What d'you mean? Has he said-"

"You're pretty paranoid, aren't you? I've got eyes too, Chica. And ears." Ana interrupted abruptly. "A blind man could see that there's something going on between you two. I'm just not so sure why he's taking you spending so much time with another man so well."

Kate opened her mouth to speak again but Ana chuckled to herself and interrupted again.

"Let me guess…You and Jack are complicated too?" Ana snorted in half amusement.

"Not dirty laundry complicated," Kate laughed along, but it did little to hide the slightly ruffled look that flashed across her face at having been read so well. "But yeah. We're complicated too."

"Is that really fair?" Ana asked suddenly. So out of the blue with her mildly reproaching comment that it took Kate aback. "You playing from one to the other and back again? Like musical boyfriends?"

"Thanks, but I'd rather not talk about this now. Dirty laundry and all." she pointed to the whirring machine, spinning the load of clothes around in sudsy water.

Ana merely shrugged nonchalantly, doing a better job at concealing her ire than Kate had the entire time. She hefted her 'new' clothes into her arms, making sure that the towel was still wrapped about her waist securely.

"Fair enough, Sweets." she responded from behind her load. "That's up to you. But I have to give you fair warning that things might just _uncomplicated_ themselves pretty soon."

Kate had barely opened her mouth to reply but Ana didn't give her the chance to ponder the words just spoken aloud. Her own insinuation. And again she decided that Kate could make of it exactly what she wanted.

"Well, I'm gonna go get changed. Catch you later, Kate. Good luck with the dirty laundry." and she left the laundry room, bare feet slapping against the cold concrete.

ooo 


	2. Chapter 2

Apologies for taking so long to update this final part and thank you for all of your lovely reviews and for taking that time to read this. This is the end now. Finito. No more. And it's just a bit of silliness on my part, perhaps. This is the 'Southern Pervert' part of the title lol and Sawyer really does earn that name in this.

Again, be warned, it's just my bad attempt at Sana humour.

**Part 2.**

She returned to the beach, to the hastily built shelter that she now called 'home', clean and clad in new clothes, a whole pile of other garments in her arms which were now neatly folded and stowed safely in the back behind her sleeping area.

"Knock, knock?"

She knew his voice automatically. She knew his voice anywhere for he'd done more than enough jabbering in the short time that she'd known him to last her a lifetime. It was cocky again, no doubt indicating that he had made a full recovery from near-death and was back to his old, irritating self and with a sigh and a questioning glance she turned to glare at him as he popped his head through the tarps of her tent.

"Anybody home?"

She rolled her eyes at his grin, blowing a loose curl of ebony hair out of her face with a puff of air from the corner of her mouth and crossed her arms.

"What do _you_ want?" she queried, a little more harshly than she had intended. They were safe after all, well as safe as they could be, and he had done nothing to warrant her irritation…yet.

Sawyer feigned distress, placing a palm against his heart as if her words had indeed wounded him beyond repair, reaching out his other hand perhaps to ward her off or to placate her.

"Easy now, Sugar-Pie." he responded, smirk flickering at the corners of his mouth ever so briefly before he managed to suppress it once more. He was most definitely up to something. "Is that any way to speak to a guest? Come all the way out here to see you special like?"

He quirked his eyebrows, awaiting a retort from her and moving to step inside her shelter unbidden but Ana stopped him before he got very far. A palm placed against his chest, pushing him back with a shove and stepping outside herself, squaring her gaze upon him as the tarps swished closed behind her and blocked her home from his scrutiny.

"To be considered a guest, first you have to be invited. Did I invite you?" she raised her chin and allowed her hands to rest lightly at her hips as her eyes flickered over him, measuring him up, trying to learn why exactly he was there pestering her and absently she noted that he was wearing that black shirt again. Clean and freshly washed by his own personal little slave in the hatch, and she knew that he had worn it for a particular reason. The bullet hole left un-mended revealed his still angry looking scar to her inspection.

Ah, so he had come for an apology. He was so predictable.

His chuckled drew her gaze back up to meet his and something glinted in the depths of his azure eyes. Something cocky and self-sure and it made her stomach flip-flop with a sudden wariness. He was most definitely up to something…

"I just thought that we ain't had one of our deep an' meanin'ful conversations for a long time now." he stated suddenly, stepping back so that he could lean against one of the tree trunks that supported her shelter, folding his own arms across his chest smugly. "Thought you mighta missed my wonderful and…_stimulatin'_ company."

Ana snorted, desperately holding back the wild, incredulous laughter that wanted to leap forth from her throat, and blinked her eyes closed for an extended moment not quite believing what Sawyer had just said to her. He had some nerve. Really he did. But instead she allowed herself a slightly derisive smirk and glanced back up at him again, changing the subject. She had no patience for his games at the minute.

"What do you _want_, Sawyer?"

He remained silent for so long, simply staring at her steadily, that she thought he'd gone mad or fallen asleep with his eyes open. He was more than likely, however, attempting to make her feel uncomfortable and Ana wasn't about to let him win that bout on her home turf. So she held her tongue too, waiting him out, cocking her head to one side and raising her eyebrows at him inquiringly.

And eventually, after another length of mute gaping, he sniffed indignantly, slitted his still watching eyes cautiously and grinned wider.

"An _'I'm sorry'_, wouldn't go amiss, Cupcake…"

Bingo.

Ana titled her head again, not holding back her laughter that time but Sawyer kept on smiling and she suddenly had the sinking feeling that he had some sort of bargaining chip over her.

"…But that ain't the _real _reason I'm here, Peaches."

And that stopped her dead. Ice water trickled down her spine and pooled in the pit of her stomach. What had she done? What had he seen or heard that could possibly give him such a confident, conceited manner? Or was he possibly just bluffing…?

He leaned in towards her abruptly, taking her by surprise but his arms still remained folded as he spoke to her in a conspiratorial growl. Cool blue eyes bored into hers as he leant down to bring them level. His lips curled yet again, revealing pearl white teeth that seemed to mock her as well.

"Nice pants," he murmured to her and she frowned in confusion. Not quite certain that she had understood what he had just said. And guardedly she was about to reply with a 'Thanks, but they're not mine. I found them in the unclaimed clothes pile,' but Sawyer's devilish snort stopped her before she had finished taking in the breath to start the sentence. His irises burned blue fire, dancing with laughter and mockery although they did stray, flicking down to take a once over look at her now that she was clean and freshly dressed.

"Not _those_ pants, Chica." he didn't hurry in his examination of her, didn't even hide it as he let his gaze return to her face of it's own accord and likewise he did not feel hurried to explain himself and his comment to her.

Another annoying snort sounded from him before he held out his hand…

…And there they were, dangling from the crook of his finger. Her underwear. The ones she had stuffed into the washing machine before Kate had appeared and ruined her concentration.

"Imagine my surprise, Darlin', when Freckles came brought me back my laundry and, lo and behold, I find these _fine_ lookin' things lockin' legs and gettin' _frisky_ with my humble boxers." he was gloating now. Entirely too gleeful at the look of shock upon her face that she tried to stamp down desperately.

Ana tossed her ebony ponytail over her shoulder and held out a hand towards him. Scowling now.

"Gimme them!" she demanded, making to snatch the undergarment from his grasp when he refused to hand them over immediately, but he was too fast, jerking them away.

"Ah, ah, ah, Chica!" he warned condescendingly, wagging the forefinger of his free hand back and forth. "Better be nice to me or I'm fixin' to keep these."

"And I'm _'fixin'_ to smack you upside your head again!" she retorted, ferocious now. "Give them back!"

Sawyer spun away from her second grab-attempt, swifter than an injured man should have been able to in Ana's estimation, and a chuckled rumbled deep from within his chest. Obviously he was very pleased with himself.

"You're such a pervert." she snorted, calming herself and folding her arms, securely clamping her hands beneath her armpits to refrain from lashing out at him and earning herself more inhospitality from the other survivors who all seemed to have fallen head-over-heels, blindly in love with the annoying southerner upon his miraculous return to health.

The triumphant tint in his eyes told her that she was only playing into his hands by getting mad at him. He wanted something from her and he wasn't likely to comply with her demands until he got what he wanted.

"What do you want?" she growled low and Sawyer blinked at her, pretending that he hadn't quite caught her words.

"What was that, Sugar? You're mumblin'." he beamed, cupping his free hand about his ear and Ana ground her teeth together hard.

"What. Do. You. Want?" she repeat slowly and deliberately and his teasing act was dropped and forgotten in a heartbeat as he once again bent so that their stares were on the same level.

"I want you to repeat after me," he smirked, linking his hands behind his back as he spoke. "_'Sawyer, you handsome devil you.'_" he ignored her derisive snort. "_'I'm mighty sorry that I smacked you up and stepped on you're bullet wound and got it infected, but I only did it because my inner feelings for you are love and adoration and I was unable to convey them properly because I was so wound up with the sexual tension that your body stirs in me.'_"

Ana laughed out loud, throwing her head back and howling out her hilarity.

"In your _dreams_, Cowboy!" she managed to choke out between her amusement, fingers flicking the jovial tears from the corners of her eyes. "I'm not saying _that_!"

But Sawyer's smile remained confident as he straightened, making to leave her and walk away as he offered her a blasé shrug at her devout opposition.

"Sawyer!" she called after him, irritation taking it's place at the forefront of her emotions once more, and languidly he glanced back at her over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows inquiringly. "You don't give them back and I'll tell everyone that you go around stealing women's underwear!" she stated with a bitter smile and Sawyer clicked at his teeth, turning back and covering the small distance between them again.

"You do that, _Tattle-Tail_, an' I'll tell everyone how my shoulder _really_ got infected." he countered confidently.

How he had read her desire to ease the silence and awkwardness between herself and the community that she was now forced to reside in was a mystery to her but she didn't like it. Her jaw ground together of it's own accord almost as she glared up at his jovial features, wanting nothing more than to slap them clean off his face but she didn't. Instead she took a deep, calming breath, biting her tongue until she was certain that she could contain the expletives that wanted to pour forth and out at him.

"I'm sorry I hit you and stood on your shot wound, okay?" she replied at length, waiting patiently for his reaction and adding an "I mean it." for good measure.

And Sawyer looked down upon her as if he we making the hardest decision in his life.

"They weren't the right words, Sweetheart…" he teased and Ana rolled her eyes, releasing her impatience with him in a huff from where she had been holding it in her lungs.

"Haven't you ever heard of the word 'overkill'?" she muttered and it was his turn to laugh out loud at her dark frown.

"Yes, Ma'am. I have." he replied, his grin lancing sideways as he stooped, reaching around behind the tree holding up her shelter and retrieved a surprisingly neatly folded pile of her old clothes, her black vest top, her worn jeans and finally her undergarments atop that, before straightening and thrusting them towards her so that she had to scramble to keep them from falling to the dirty ground and needing another wash. "_Overkill_ is your middle name."

And he patted the pile of clothing clasped in her arms before tipping an imaginery hat at her and swaggering back out onto the beach, into the sun and back to his 'adoring' companions.

-oOo- 


End file.
